


Back in Black

by Selah



Series: Matteiru Kara [2]
Category: Jrock, MUCC
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Satochi (MUCC), Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pansexual Miya (MUCC), Soulmates don't just come in pairs, Tatsurou (MUCC)'s stupid mouth continues to be a problem, Unresolved Tension, colorblind soulmates au, homophobic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selah/pseuds/Selah
Summary: As far as Tatsurou was concerned, meeting his soulmate was a disaster. What happened next didn't make anything better.
Relationships: Miya/Satochi (MUCC)
Series: Matteiru Kara [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/950748
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6
Collections: VK Yaoi 2020 Challenges





	Back in Black

**Author's Note:**

> A direct continuation from "Black and Blue" and the title is ... not one of my more subtle titles, but there it is. Written for the VKY September challenge in the form of a sequel to myself. I'd apologize for Tatsu's ongoing assholishness, but it's kinda at the root of this subplot.
> 
> Also, yes, I have rearranged this series so it is now ordered chronologically. _sigh_.  
> date stamp on this is Summer-Winter 2004
> 
> Also, also big props to TheHamHamHeaven for beta and sitting thru Tatsu's ongoing BS.

By the time Miya caught up with the other three, they were several streets on from where Tatsurou'd had his disastrous meeting with his soulmate. At least his friend had stopped kicking and swearing, though Tatsurou still didn't look exactly happy about things.

“How much color are you seeing?” Satochi asked, looking up when he noticed Miya rejoining them; the grimace on the drummer's face told him plenty about what he had missed.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Tatsurou growled. “Too fucking much, that's for fucking sure. Fuck, everything's all … bright and flashing. What the hell, how do people see at night like this? Colors every-fucking-where.”

“That sounds like maybe more than us,” Satochi said with a quiet frown shot in Miya's direction.

“What?”

“Don't even,” Miya said with a snort at Tatsurou's supposed surprise. “Seriously, since when do you have a problem with two men being soulmates?”

“I _don't_ have a problem with it, as long as one of them isn't _me_!” Tatsurou countered, crossing his arms over his chest. “ _I'm_ not a fucking fa–.”

Even knowing Satochi as well and for as long as he had now, Miya was still surprised when his soulmate cold clocked their singer. Tatsurou staggered back a step, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth a moment.

“I _dare_ you to use that word again,” Satochi snarled.

“What, fa–.”

Yukke literally jumped up between the two, slapping a hand over Tatsurou's mouth before he could finish.

“Come on, Sato; you know Tatsu says all kinds of shit when he's this drunk,” Yukke insisted, almost pleading. “You can't take him seriously like this.”

“He wouldn't say it if he didn't think it,” the drummer snarled.

“Why do you even care?” Tatsurou asked as he freed himself from Yukke. “You and Miyacchi don't even count.”

“We're two men who are deep soulmates,” Satochi countered, scowling hard. “What about that doesn't count to you?”

“Pssht, you want a fucking list? I know you two don't have full color; you already told me. Plus, I saw you out with a girl last week, Sato!”

“That was my fucking cousin, you asshole,” Satochi snapped. “Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh come on, how was I supposed to know? Not like I stuck around to stare at you two,” Tatsurou countered, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. You still don't count.”

Miya could see the thought forming in his soulmate's eyes and grabbed him by the shoulders, keeping him at arm's length.

“Don't,” he said with a harsh growl. “Never like this.”

A heartbeat, perhaps less, and Satochi deflated.

“Yeah, fair,” the drummer said with a little apologetic grimace. “Hotel?”

“Hotel,” Miya agreed.

Snagging Tatsurou's collar to make sure he didn't escape or get lost, Miya dutifully steered his bandmates in the right direction. A drunk Tatsurou wasn't going to be rational; it would be a waste of breath to try to tell him anything like this. Better to let him sleep it off and hope for the best in the morning.

* * *

Tatsurou woke the next morning with a bitch of a hangover throbbing through his whole head. What the hell had they even been drinking last night? He couldn't remember too much of the night, except....

Jerking upright, Tatsurou was shocked to open his eyes and see color … and Miya. Just Miya, their other two bandmates apparently already out of the room.

“I sent them to breakfast when it started looking like you were waking up,” Miya said, getting up from the tiny table next to the window. “Coffee? We need to talk.”

“… it really happened. I met my soulmate last night.”

Miya woke his Macbook, pulling up a full screen image he had obviously had waiting for this moment.

“How many colors do you see?” he asked. “Take a minute, really count them.”

Frowning, Tatsurou took a moment to scrub his face, then squinted at the screen. Of all the things to ask him to do with a hangover … but he supposed it made sense. Or would in a minute, when Miya explained himself properly.

“Twenty-eight, I think? Or maybe thirty? Man, I'm hungover, I don't know.”

“The point is more than twenty, meaning a life partners type of soulmate connection with that guy,” Miya said with a little … was that a frown?

“Like hell it does,” Tatsurou growled. “And since when are you an expert anyway?”

“You think Sato and I didn't go through all those same feelings back when he and I met?” Miya countered, rolling his eyes. “You think, after the first supposed expert insisted the amount of colors we were seeing meant there was a third life partner out there, we didn't go find someone for a second opinion? And then a third? You think we didn't hear every variation of how shouldn't we be relieved because it means there's a girl out there waiting to meet us still? Like that was something any of them could even guarantee but said anyway because obviously two teen boys were going to be quietly freaking out that they were suddenly forced to be gay.”

“Miya….”

“And I'm going to tell you the same thing half the people in our lives insisted on telling us all the time back then: a soulmate doesn't have to be a sexual connection. That many colors aren't a promise of anything. All it means is that your souls have a deep connection, a chance at something unlike anything else. If that guy decides to give you a second chance, then you should definitely take it.”

“Doesn't matter,” Tatsurou muttered, staring into his coffee. “Don't know anything about him, so can't find him.”

“Yeah, well….”

The way Miya trailed off was deeply suspicious. Tatsurou couldn't help but narrow his eyes and frown at the man. As long as they had known each other now, he could tell when the guitarist was holding out on him. Not that Miya was really trying to hide it.

“What did you do?”

“Gave his friend my card. It might not go anywhere. You were in full drunken jackass mode last night; you'll probably have to grovel even if he _does_ decide he's willing to give you a second chance,” Miya said with a shrug. “And either way, you owe Sato some groveling and a promise to work on your shit.”

“The fuck for?” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Not that it's actually any of your business, but Sato and I aren't just roommates, you idiot.”

“W-what?”

“We didn't jump each other right away or anything, but yeah, we've been sleeping together since high school.”

“And you didn't say something about this sooner because…?”

“Because it's nobody's business,” Miya repeated, almost scowling now. “Sato didn't want it to be a distraction. I didn't want anyone thinking he was getting special treatment just because we're in a relationship. We wouldn't've told anyone about our color vision at all, but it was kind of important information, especially since it meant we could do the design work. You're lucky Sato hasn't decked you before last night.”

Tatsurou didn't know what to say to _any_ of that. He had known from the start, of course, that Satochi and Miya had a close bond, but he had always viewed them as just very close friends. The idea that they might be gay or even bi hadn't once entered into his thinking. And now here his friend was telling him that for the last seven years or so he had been cracking shitty gay jokes and they had just let him?

“You mean … you two … have been gay since before we even met?”

“Bisexual,” Miya corrected. “Ish. Sato's a little closer to straight, I don't really like to label myself. Not that either of us have been doing any outside dating. Sato grew up thinking of himself as monogamous; it's been enough trying to adjust to the idea that he has two deep soulmate bonds, not that we know anything about when or even if we'll meet our third.”

“You just … let me say all those things … for all these years….”

“Not … easily,” Miya confessed. “Sato asked me to fire you a couple of times, but we always talked our way down from that.”

Once again, Tatsurou was stunned into silence. He had noticed tension between himself and Satochi a few times over the years, but he never would have guessed the situation had ever been that severe. To be honest, he was more than a little surprised to hear Miya had defended him, kept him on with the band even with his _soulmate_ asking for Tatsurou to get the boot. It didn't make sense.

“Wait, what changed?”

“Hmm?”

“Before this, you guys never said anything. What changed?”

“Oh. That,” Miya said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

For a second, Tatsurou wasn't sure the other man was going to explain himself without further prompting. But Miya had been the one to start this conversation, dammit; there was no point in acting like he wasn't going to see it through.

“Look, everyone's got a breaking point, yeah? I guess you meeting your male soulmate and then calling him a faggot and trying to beat him up was Sato's, with you anyway. So yeah, I can't keep the band together if you aren't going to seriously work on improving yourself.”

“You're firing me?”

“Clean your ears, man. I'm saying the band _will break up_ if you don't make amends. And yeah, it's all on your right now to do that. If you want to call that firing you, then you have bigger problems and need a fucking therapist for all your issues. Which might not be such a bad idea.”

Tatsurou scowled, watching as Miya abruptly shut his laptop and then walked out of the room. Why was everything on _him_ all of a sudden? Okay, yeah, he was the one pissed off at the universe still for giving him a male soulmate when he wasn't the least bit gay, thank you very fucking much. What that had to do with the band, though … it was his private life, why should it matter if he was pissed off about it? What the hell kind of right did Satochi even have to be mad at him for his anger in the first fucking place? 

It was like the universe was in on some sick joke at his expense. Here he was in a great band that was really taking off, on the cusp of even bigger, better greatness, and now Miya was telling him he was about to be kicked out, that MUCC was about to end, and it would all be his fault because … he hated having a male soulmate? Talk about completely fucked up!

Snarling, Tatsurou got up and threw himself into the tiny hotel room shower. This was bullshit, but whatever. He wasn't going to see that guy again anyway. One soulmate and it was some Nagoya punk fag. Whatever, their paths weren't likely to cross again, he'd just … never talk about it again. And then buy Satochi enough beers that he forgot to be angry.

Tatsurou was just stepping into the shower when he got hit with a wave of nausea so strong he staggered and almost crashed into the tiled wall. Something … something was very wrong, but he couldn't put words to it before passing out.

* * *

To be honest, the last thing Satochi wanted to do right then was deal with Tatsurou. The man was a bigoted jackass and being hungover wasn't going to make him any better. Worse, Satochi was tired of everyone always making excuses for the singer. But _something_ was pushing him to go back up to their hotel room, and it wasn't just his forgotten wallet.

He was quietly relieved to walk into the hotel room and see it was empty, but also confused. Was his own brain playing tricks on him now? Because he was pretty sure he had come up here with a purpose besides retrieving his wallet!

He was _not_ prepared for the loud thump from their bathroom, nor was he prepared to walk in and find Tatsurou collapsed in a haphazard pile of gangly limbs. Swearing softly, he hurried forward to make sure the idiot hadn't concussed himself or worse, then fired off a quick message to Miya.

“Come on, you jerk, snap out of this,” he muttered. “Don't do this shit, man.”

So of course Tatsurou groaned but didn't actually rouse. Jerk.

“Sato?”

“Swear, I'm this close to just slapping him” he muttered, glancing back over his shoulder at hearing Miya's approach.

“Now, now, Babe, you promised,” his soulmate countered, lips twitching.

“I said I was tempted, not that I was actually going to do it,” Satochi countered, unable to stop himself from pouting at Miya. “I do have _some_ self-control!”

“More than anyone else I know,” Miya agreed, brushing a quick kiss to Satochi's cheek.

“If you two start making out in front of me, I might puke.”

He had been doing so well, keeping a lid on his anger, but those words were an unexpected last straw. Satochi swatted the vocalist without even thinking. At least he hadn't slugged him again? Tatsurou was already sporting enough bruises.

“Right, well, since you're awake … what the hell happened?”

“I felt sick and … wait, Miya, weren't you wearing blue before?”

“Uh … I'm still wearing blue,” Miya said, sharing a worried look with Satochi.

“No, that's – fuck!”

Satochi scrambled out of the way as Tatsurou suddenly got up and rushed out of the bathroom. Curious, he followed Tatsurou and Miya out of the bathroom. The vocalist had the curtains thrown open, clutching them in white-knuckled fists, but Satochi really wasn't sure how to interpret the man's body language just then, other than a vague feeling of unease in his own chest.

So of course Miya's phone chose that moment to start ringing. The two soulmates shared a look and a shrug before Miya answered it. The guitarist's eyes widened briefly when the other end said something, probably identifying themselves, which of course made Satochi even more curious. But for now he was willing to hold his tongue, glancing sidelong at their vocalist, still staring out the window.

“He collapsed a moment ago and now he's acting kinda odd, even fore him, but other than that, he seems fine?” Miya said, pausing and then humming as the other person started talking.

“No, it's fine, I understand,” Miya said after a moment. “There's some online color tests, maybe try some of those? Actually, email me, and I'll send you one I know is trustworthy. But right now I should really check on Tatsu. Ja ne.”

Now Satochi was even more curious, watching his soulmate hang up. Had that been Tatsurou's soulmate? Or maybe the soulmate's companion? Satochi wasn't sure which to hope for anymore.

“Tatsu….”

“So … not dead?”

“What?”

“That f– ... person from last night. You said tests; there's no point in testing if he's dead, so I guess it's not that.”

“Tatsu, what the hell are you talking about?” Miya huffed.

“I can't see color anymore,” Tatsurou said, turning around to give them the flattest, emptiest look Satochi had ever seen on the man's face. “Guess I was figuring that meant he was dead, but….”

“Stop me if I'm wrong,” the drummer said, frowning, “but shouldn't you be happier about not seeing color?”

“ _You_ lose _your_ color vision and then you can talk to me about being happy,” Tatsurou snapped back.

“You didn't even like him!”

Tatsurou didn't say anything, instead turning back to the window. None of this made sense. Satochi had read accounts of soulmate bonds broken at death, but the effects seemed to depend on who was telling the story. He certainly didn't remember hearing or reading about any bonds broken where the two people involved were still alive so what the hell was even happening??

“Still sounds like you got what you wanted,” Satochi grumbled, giving up on trying to understand. “Stop sulking and pack your shit. We need to be leaving anyway.”

Satochi could feel Miya's disappointed eyes on him, but just then he didn't care, instead throwing himself into packing up his own things. If his soulmate was disappointed with him, well, it wouldn't even be the first time. Satochi would live with it.

* * *

Tatsurou spent the whole day telling himself that it didn't matter, that he didn't care about color. That he was happy that person wasn't his soulmate anymore. That this was what he'd wanted.

It wasn't working. At all. Having a gay soulmate wasn't something he had ever _wanted_ , yes, but losing all color didn't make things any better. Especially when _apparently_ that asshole still had color vision himself somehow. It wasn't fair, dammit! No matter how he looked at it, it felt like he was being punished for something that he couldn't control, and it was making him crankier than usual. He kept a lid on it around the staff, even managed to put on a clowning mask for the live, but when they got to the hotel, he went straight to the nearest bar with the sole intention of getting himself good and drunk. He wasn't sure he wanted Yukke's company. On the other hand, the bassist wasn't trying to engage him in conversation, taking the bar seat next to him with barely a nod. And at least Miya and Satochi hadn't tagged along – irrational as it probably was, Tatsurou really didn't want to even look at them tonight.

“Despite how it feels,” Yukke said halfway through their third round, “it's not actually the end of the world, ne?”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm not saying it's the same. I don't know how it has to feel, knowing he's still out there, just not your soulmate anymore, but … the world goes on, yeah?”

“… the fuck you know about it?” he grumbled, narrowing eyes at the bassist who didn't even have the guts to face him.

“It was high school; we had a little over a month and then … freak accident and just like that, she was gone. It's not the same, but … life goes on,” Yukke said, staring into his beer for another moment before downing the rest of it. “You'll adapt. It's what we do.”

Tatsurou didn't see any point in arguing, watching as Yukke paid his tab and left. It wasn't the sort of confession he had ever expected to hear from the bassist, especially after eight years in the same band together and Yukke never once mentioning that he'd had and then lost color from his vision. To have been able to see the world in full color for a month and then go back to black and white … that had to be hell. Tatsurou had only been able to see color for a few hours, and yet losing that felt like losing a piece of his soul. Which was, he supposed, sort of the point, but that didn't make him hate it any less.

He was plenty happy to lose track of time, sitting in that bar and getting himself steadily drunker, until Miya claimed the seat next to him. Tatsurou dimly felt like he should still be irritated with the guitarist, but that took effort. Lots of things took effort, too much effort. Like trying to understand what the bartender was trying to say to him.

“Come on, Ta-kun,” Miya scolded. “You've had enough.”

“Mm, nope, I can still feel the bad things,” he slurred, but he didn't resist when Miya urged him to his feet.

“Alcohol isn't the answer, trust me,” Miya said, not quite scolding.

“Better than the alternative.”

To Tatsurou's surprise, the other man didn't bother arguing with him, just helped him back to their hotel room. Eight years now and they still kept cramming all four of them into one hotel room. Tatsurou hadn't thought about it much in the past; these guys were three of his best friends and the rooms were always big enough to be fine. But now that he knew the truth behind Miya and Satochi's relationship, it felt really weird.

“Why don't we get more hotel rooms on the road? We're not that broke still, are we?”

“Because none of you can be trusted to get anywhere on time without me, so might as well stick to the one room,” Miya said, chuckling a little. “Wash up; you're late for bed and stink like an ashtray.”

Tatsurou huffed and wobbled his way into their bathroom. Whatever, he didn't care.

* * *

Waking up two mornings in a row with a hangover was just further proof that Tatsurou made terrible life choices far more often than he was usually willing to admit. Having Miya sitting there watching him wake up for the second morning in a row didn't make things any better.

“Now what?” he groused, dragging himself up from the bed he'd shared with Yukke.

“Still no color?”

Tatsurou aimed a narrow glare at the other man for a moment, not sure he liked what he was hearing out of that question. Did Miya think his loss of color vision was supposed to have been temporary? Why? Because that Kanto bastard was still alive, unlike Yukke's soulmate? That was an unsettling thought….

“Still no color,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Why?”

“Just a theory. You changed your soulmate bond once through sheer hungover stubbornness; figured it was worth asking if you'd done it again.”

“The fuck you sayin' to me??”

“Nothing you want to hear, clearly,” Miya said, shrugging and getting to his feet. “Go shower. I want to be on the road by the top of the hour.”

That was a non-answer if Tatsurou had ever heard one, but maybe it wasn't worth trying to wrestle a real answer out of the other man. Especially with the way his head was hurting. Hopefully a hot shower and some breakfast would help. It usually did.

* * *

“Hey, that guy is –.” 1

Tatsurou couldn't help a little suspicious glower for the way Yukke was looking at him furtively; they were supposed to be brainstorming on tracks for the next single, but things had broken down a bit with everyone on their own laptops. He had been working on lyrics, had no idea what had prompted Yukke to get up, never mind what could possibly be on Satochi's screen. Or why the bassist and drummer were both now giving him scrunched looks.

“Might as well just spit it out now, Yukke,” Miya said with a sigh.

“It's just … it's the guy from this summer and, um, he's in a new active band now. Lynch.”

“And we should care because … why exactly?” Tatsurou groused, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I just thought … yeah, you're right, never mind,” Yukke said, shaking his head and then going back to his own laptop.

So what if that guy – who wasn't even his soulmate anymore, according to Tatsurou's ongoing lack of color vision – was in a band? Lots of guys did the band thing. Tatsurou absolutely did not give a single fuck whatsoever. Anyway, this new band and MUCC weren't even on the same level and chances were they never would be. It didn't matter to him at all.

* * *

Miya had to admit, he had been waiting for Tatsurou to come to him in a mood. The way the lanky singer was waving his phone about wasn't _quite_ what he had been expecting, but….

“What the fuck is this?!?”

“What is what?” he asked calmly.

“THIS?!”

Tatsurou shoved his phone in Miya's face, the band list for their label's big countdown event on the screen.

“The list of bands for the year-end event, looks like.”

“Yaguchi Masaaki!” 2

Miya sighed heavily, pushing Tatsurou's hand away from his face. He knew what this was really about, of course, but it was still irritating.

“What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”

“You could have told them no!”

“Come off it, Tatsu. We're doing good, but DC is under no obligation to listen to us on these things, so no, I really couldn't have. Anyway, I thought you didn't care?”

“I _don't_ care, I just don't want to have to see his stupid face again,” Tatsurou groused.

“Lynch is slated for the other stage, you probably won't even see each other backstage. _If_ the label says everyone should do the final countdown along with us, then it'll be, what, maybe five, ten minutes of sharing the main stage – which will be nice and big enough to hold everyone, so you'll have no problem keeping your distance – with everyone else invited. So yeah, calm your tits. It's one event, not the end of the world”

Miya had to bite back a grin at the way his vocalist snorted and stormed out of the room. To be honest, he had been surprised to see lynch on the list of invited off-label bands himself, but … he wasn't going to question what the label decided to do. For all he knew, they were a great band. And if they were, he would be happy to support them like a good senpai, regardless of what Tatsurou thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, situation between Tatsu and Hazu is still unresolved. I have a plan, I swear. XD
> 
> endnotes:  
> 1\. In English, this sentence fragment would more likely be "Hey isn't that --?" but since Japanese doesn't work like that, you get this instead.  
> 2\. Is it his real name? Is it just an alternate stage name? Who knows, but real!Miya uses it like a legal name, so....


End file.
